Indian Summer
by SimplyTheBeth
Summary: You can't plan fate.
1. Sound and Fury

**Sound and Fury**

It's been two years since his divorce was finalized. A year and a half since Kathy started dating, and six months since he started sleeping with his partner.

He fell in love with her years ago. He doesn't remember exactly when, as he doesn't care to think about the timing of it all. He was happily married at the time. That much he knows. It's probably why he's felt so guilty all these years; thinking about her while making love to his wife. Sometimes he'd even think of her while he was stroking himself—a palm curled around his rigid cock as he imagined what it would be like to find his release while pulsing deep within her. Oddly enough, those were the times that were harder to reconcile in his mind. He couldn't help his thoughts wandering off while he pumped his hips; laying sweaty and somewhat sated underneath the woman he'd shared a bed and 20 years with. These things happen. But the times when he's by himself, he thinks, these are what make him realize, this life he's created for himself, this marriage—it's a façade at best. Yes, Elliot Stabler had begun to feel as if everything was, as Shakespeare put it, "All sound and fury, signifying nothing."

Yet despite all the time he'd spent fantasizing about her, nothing could have prepared him for that balmy Thursday evening in late-September. They were on a stakeout. The week had been unseasonably warm-an Indian summer hovering in the beginning hues of an early evening sunset. Tired, somewhat defeated and packing it in for the evening, the conversation was mild and mindless. All he really remembers is her smile.

She so rarely smiles, he thinks. But when she does, it lights up her whole face and changes the air around her. When she smiles-really smiles-he feels it in his soul. It's what made him fall for her so many years ago. And this very play of light across her face was no exception on that autumn evening: activating the launch sequence that led him claim her in the final way he'd yet to.

He reached across the expanse of the tan bench seat in the old sedan, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, stopping to caress her cheek with his fingertips.

Her eyes closed for a moment, but her smile lingered in the dwindling space between them as he slid towards her to run his palm over her thigh and capture her lips with a gentle, tentative kiss.

She had wanted this—wanted him—for so long, never knowing if he felt the same way. But the with his lips pressed softly to hers, her questioning mind was eased, and she parted her lips and allowed him to explore her mouth with his.

She turned her body into his and deepened the kiss. His right hand tangled effortlessly in the caramel-colored strands of her hair as his left slid carefully under the back of her white cotton shirt to rest on the warm flesh of her lower back. The kiss grew heated as they passionately explored the new terrain with each other. Removing his hand from beneath her shirt, he reached around and laced his fingers between hers, a gesture that wordlessly conveyed the depths of his love for her. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run his hands along her bare skin, but he knew that he stood to lose so much more than his partner if he didn't take his time with her.

She runs her hand over the bulge in his pants and his breath hitches as his lips trail a path of kisses down her neck while she continues to massage him.

He speaks, his voice a low growl in the crook of her neck, "If you keep doin' that, I'm not gonna be able to—"

She smiles then, moving her lips to his ear, "Who says I want you to?"

She raises an eyebrow and keeps her gaze fixed on him as she quickly undoes her pants with one hand, using the other to guide his down her panties.

"I'm ready, El" she whispers, as his fingers find their way past the neatly manicured strip of curls to discover just that.

"I'm ready."

The words alone are enough to make him cum in his pants; her warm hands stroking the strained fabric at the crotch of his work slacks doesn't help matters much, either.

"Too close," he grunts in her ear.

Her hand stills on his hardened cock. "So take me with you," she moans seductively, trying to wiggle out of her pants, in the cramped expanse of the passenger seat.

His hand reaches across her, lifting the lever on the side of the seat until it reclines.

She scoots her ass up and shimmies out of her black cotton panties as he lifts the handle below the seat sliding the base as far back as it will go. He unzips his fly then, to relieve some of the mounting pressure against his growing groin. A smirk creeps across his face as he kneels in front of her and eyes her waiting sex, licking his lips.

He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head in elated disbelief. He's always wondered what Olivia tasted like. When he was alone and needed to take the edge off, he'd work his palm around his hardened shaft, imagining himself squarely in this position, kneeling between her legs, her nether regions on display in front of his face. His wife was never really into foreplay, he thinks, as he places a palm on either of his partner's thighs and parts her with his thumbs. He loses his focus for a moment, wondering how he got to be so lucky. The gentle pressure of her hand on the back of his head brings him back to reality and he places a gentle kiss along her core before wiggling his tongue between her lips and fitting his mouth on her

He glances up at her and notices her other hand had gathered the material of her shirt, leaving it to rest atop her full breasts, a single white lacy bra cup tucked hastily underneath one of them as she tugs on her taut pink nipple.

She's moaning. Not just moaning, but moaning his name as he works his mouth over every crease and valley of her warm, tangy center, sucking and running his tongue along her. Christ.

He mumbles something filthy into her; the erotic reverberations send a shockwave of pleasure throughout her body. The sounds of her sudden erratic panting drown out the noise of her sweaty back lifting off the leather seat as he runs his hands up, gently groping and pressing his fingertips into her perfect ass.

His lips and tongue trail a delicious path from her tight opening to her throbbing bundle, and he widens his mouth over the sweet spot and gently begins to suck.

Her fingers trace lazy circles over his shaved head as he sucks and laps at her while she sighs.

Her pleasure begins to bloom, warm and intoxicating, and he moves his lips up and over the gentle curve of her belly. His breathing is hot and unrestricted now, but she misses his mouth on her, in her, tasting and teasing. He must know this, she realizes when he dips a finger inside her, rubs the moisture into the pad of his thumb and applies a gentle, maddening pressure to her clit. His mouth continues its slow ascent and lands squarely on her puckered nipple. She searches frantically for something to hold onto, wrapping her fingers around the seat belt and gripping it for dear life.

"Oh f-fuuuuck!" She can't help but scream, throwing her head back as she feels his smile forming around her nipple.

Her breath hitches when he sinks two fingers inside her, and she redirects her focus, then, locking eyes with him as she reaches an arm around to unhook her bra.

The fingers on his right hand continued to slide in and out of her with ease, while his left tugged her impeding shirt, up and over her head. She shrugged and rid herself of the final scrap of lace and watched her partner's jaw drop, as his hand stilled its frantic movements.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, and she could feel his gaze meandering over the supple curves of her bare body.

After a long moment, she opened her eyes, and found her partner, still fully clothed and on his knees gaping at her with his hand down his pants.

She was so beautiful, so perfectly put together, he thought as he stroked himself. He was afraid to touch her.

"The hell are you doing, Stabler?" A look of bemused confusion contorted her face.

Suddenly, he was very aware of his surroundings, and of the fact that he'd made some sort of unconscious decision to forego fucking the lithe love of his life, sitting nude in the passenger seat, waiting, wanting him to put his hands on her. Embarrassed, he removed his hand from his pants, placing it on her thigh and moving towards her.

"Now what?" She chuckled.

He studied her carefully before speaking. "Don't you want me to touch you?" He asked tentatively.

"Well yes, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. I don't want to interrupt." She looked him with a modicum of unwavering seriousness that made him nervous.

"Very funny," he replied after a beat of the slightest hesitation, moving in for a kiss.

She pulled away from his touch. "No, I'm serious," she said coolly. The tone of her voice led him to believe she was, but he didn't quite grasp what she was asking of him. He watched her carefully, cocking his head to the side to express his confusion.

"Touch yourself."

"Liv, I..." He felt himself grow inexplicably hard at her command.

"For me," she smiled, then, kissing his fingertips and guiding them toward his stiffening shaft. She reached forward to undo the buttons on his plaid dress shirt as he lowered his pants and boxers, getting up on his knees to give her a peek.

She doesn't know how on earth she'd gone a decade without seeing him naked, but with any luck, this wouldn't be the last time. He's so thick, his hand doesn't stand a chance of wrapping all the way around him. She licks her lips and eyes the fat vein and pinked head of his thick cock. She imagines the noises he'd make when she took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue over the tip, sucking and licking. A slight twinge of panic overcomes her when she remembers just how long it's been since she'd been with someone.

He seemed to pick up on her anxiety, because he moved his free hand to her side and laced his fingers between hers, locking eyes with her as he stroked himself. "It's okay," he reassured. "We can go slow. Take as much time as we need. No rush."

She wondered how on earth she got to be so lucky. Not only did this man quiet the uneasiness within her, he assumed it as his own. "...As much time as we need," she repeated, smiling and continuing to unbutton his shirt.

"We," she thought to herself. They were in this together.


	2. Liberation

The startling plunk of an acorn on the hood of the old car instills slight twinge of panic in her and threatens the thick haze of arousal clouding her better judgment.

"Elliot." She reaches down and wraps her fingers around his flexing wrist, effectively stilling his frantic movements.

One of the things she loves so much about her relationship with him is that she never has to say too much. He just gets it.

After exchanging the briefest of glances, they each gathered their clothes and dressed as quickly as their accommodations would allow. After pulling himself together, Elliot climbed into the driver's seat, turned the key, and shifted into gear, speeding off in the direction of Olivia's apartment.

For as quickly as they reached their destination, they spent about as much time sitting in silence, contemplating their next move. While it was one thing to succumb to a moment of weakness, it was quite another to stop mid-foreplay and seek a change of venue.

"Liv," Elliot spoke quietly after a long while. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She smiled then, distracted from her momentary reverie. She leaned into him and kissed him tenderly, fumbling with the door handle.

"Yes."

They climbed the stairs and she fished around the deep pockets of her parka to find her key. They reached the door to her apartment, she jammed the key into the lock and they were inside within seconds, his lips on her throat and her back against the door. They quickly shed their coats, shoes, shirts and pants, until they stood before each other bare, having forgotten their under things in the earlier haste to reach this very foyer. They began to explore each other once again: this time uninhibited.

Their kisses were gentle at first, tentative and soft as his palms came to rest on either side of her head, her naked body pressed to the door. His lips slowly trailed down her neck licking and sucking at the heated flesh he found there. He traced a path of kisses between her full breasts, sliding his lips down her abdomen and slipping his tongue inside her navel. She moaned softly as his mouth made its way back up to her nipples, and he sucked each one into his mouth while she raked her fingers through his buzzed hair.

His palms groped and found their way to her round ass, and his fingers bit into the fleshy cheeks. Instinctively, she hooked one of her legs around his midsection, then the other, wrapping her naked body around his.

"El," she sighed, when he slid one hand up her back to support her, and moved his other around to tease her.

"Want you. Inside me." She said breathlessly.

"Bed. Now."

After 13 years of suppressing the desire to have his hands and lips all over Olivia's skin, he too felt the need to move the erotic prelude into her bedroom.

With Olivia's legs wrapped around his waist and her lips on his neck, he navigated her apartment. His insistent erection bobbed as he made his way to the bed and gently lowered her waiting body onto the puffy blue comforter.

She smiled up at him as he carefully placed one of her legs over his shoulder, positioned himself at her entrance, and slid home.

He's big inside of her, she thinks, her eyes widening as he begins to pump his hips, slowly at first. It's a tight fit, but not uncomfortable. When his fingers find their way to her core, and begin to stroke her gently, the pressure relaxes her, allowing Elliot's hips to fall into a slow, tantric rhythm.

She moans quietly with each deft caress of his fingers in time with his thrusts.

Their eyes meet and he slides his palm further up her thigh, giving himself leverage. He leans in and kisses her, sinking deeper into her slick core.

She's suddenly very aware of how much he's holding back, gasping into his mouth when his sudden movement stretches her ever-so-slightly. She revels in the sudden pleasure of the slight discomfort brought about by this new angle, she presses her mouth to his and whispers softly.

"It's okay." She assures him. "Let go."

He slides her leg to the opposite shoulder, bringing the other up to grasp both ankles in his hand while he slides in and out of her, faster still.

As her breath grows shallow, he feels her teetering on the edge of release and slides his fingers into her slick center until the sudden hitch of her breath gives her away, and she comes undone beneath him.

With a few more quick thrusts of his hips, he too lets loose, empties himself inside her, and collapses onto the bed next to her.

After a few moments of silence, Olivia slowly turns her body to face him. The soft glow from the streetlamp just outside her window illuminates the thin sheen of sweat over her bronzed skin. Her hair is tousled and her clothes are strewn about, but she wears the most beautiful smile.

It sets something free inside of him, to see her like this. And the way she looks at him tells him, she feels it too.


	3. Morning

The early morning sunlight peaks through the slats of the blinds and gently caresses Elliot's cheek. His breathing is deep and even when Olivia begins to stir. Her eyes flutter open and come to rest on his face. This moment is what she's been waiting for, it's why there was never a question when it came to him staying the night—something she's never really been keen on. Then again, Elliot was no one night stand.

He smiles then, his eyes still closed.

"Why don't you take a picture…" he grunts in a sleepy voice.

"Sorry," she says quietly. "Didn't realize you were awake. I'll go put on a pot of coffee." She pulls the covers from her body and tugs Elliot's undershirt over her bare ass, suddenly remembering she'd left her panties somewhere between the foyer and living room. The tops of her breasts peak out and Elliot stretches in a thinly veiled attempt to get a better look.

"Wait—" he says sheepishly, not really having anything to follow it up with.

"Yes?"

"Just—I don't know. Stay?" He flashes her a half-hearted smile.

She chuckles, "You're not very good at this, are you?"

"Maybe not, but the least you could do is give a man a proper good morning kiss."

"Ahh," she smiles. "I'm not very good at this stuff either," she says, climbing back into bed and propping herself up with a pillow under her elbow.

"Not big on sleepovers?"

"Never," she laughs and rolls over onto her stomach, not breaking eye contact. "So you gonna kiss me good morning or what?" He's always loved how blunt she can be, when she wants something.

He rolls his eyes, "Technically," He says, moving towards her, "I'm the one who asked."

"Right. …So _technically_, you should be the one to come get it."

He tries hard to stifle his laughter, but it's evident in the gentle shaking of his shoulders as he crawls between her legs and reaches forward to grope her bare ass.

"It's just as well," he says with an air of arrogance, as he slides his hands up under her belly, coaxing her golden thighs apart as she lifts her hips. "I had something else in mind."

She watches him carefully, her brown eyes twinkling as he lowers his head and inhales the musky scent of her desire.

She lets out a sleepy, sated moan when he wiggles his tongue between her soft swollen lips and shakes his head. Her hand reaches behind her in search of his head-wanting to encourage his ministrations, but instead she finds his hand, warm and inviting as he lovingly splays his fingertips over her ass to spread her. She's delirious with desire, and he loves tasting her, licking all over as she coats his face with her want.

She entwines their fingers together for a few moments, enjoying the intimacy. She's never had such an affectionate lover. He removes his mouth from her for a few seconds, inhaling a deep breath before returning his attention to where she wants-needs to be sucked.

"P-please El," she sputters. "Don't stop, baby."

She lets go of his hand to run her fingers through his short, tidy hair, pulling his face back to her, "Please," she says desperately, turning her head toward him to convey her need with a look.

He smiles and fits his mouth over her again. His tongue is cool from his slowed breathing when it hits her. It sends shivers up her spine, when he gently flicks her clit, and she closes her eyes and turns her head to bury her face in the pillow.

"Oh, right-uhh-right there..." she groans into the pillow. Without warning, her thighs close, locking his head in place, as her body begins to shake.

He can't hear her screams, they're muffled by those glorious thighs surrounding his head. But as he slips his tongue inside her, he can feel the wet release overcome her.

He could get used to waking up to this.


	4. Daylight Savings

The weeks go by quickly, but the months are slow. Since she started seeing Elliot, her world has been turned upside down. As with anything, there are some parts of the experience that she loves—the shift in their dynamic and waking up in his arms. But there are some changes she could do without. She thinks about him all the time. That's nothing new. But she misses him in a way she's never had to. Between his transfer to homicide and her working late to pick up the slack, they hardly saw each other. Nevertheless, pursuing her partner was a package deal, and she'd rather have it all, than go back to the way things were.

Despite the newness of their romance, a lot of the relationship comes naturally. History often lends itself to habit. It's not boring, however. There's a certain comfort she gleans from having a routine with him: she revels in the sweet simplicity of his hazy silhouette bent over her bathroom sink, brushing his teeth, while she showers. It's something she's never really had. Even as a child, stability was something to be sought after. It was never just a given. Every once in a while, though, Elliot surprises her by finding some new way to sweep her off her feet. This morning, she awoke to breakfast in bed. Usually, he'd be long gone by the time she got up, but he had taken the morning off.

She yawns and stretches her arms over her head, sitting up to a tray of burnt toast and strong black coffee. She carefully takes a sip of the steaming bitter liquid, as he sits down on the next to her and traces the curve of her hip with his fingertips. She smiles lazily and glances down at his hand.

"Shit!" She half-whispers, noticing his watch. She quickly moves the tray off to the side, and springs out of bed, heading for the closet. "I have to be in court in a half hour," she calls out, pulling Elliot's undershirt up over her head while she walks.

He smiles to himself, enjoying the show. His eyes travel up the back of her toned legs to the black lace boy shorts that fit snugly around her hips and allow for the plump cheeks of her ass to peak out the bottom. She disappears inside the closet and after a moment, she carelessly tosses the scrap of lace out the door, in Elliot's general direction.

He's instantly hard.

She reappears after a few moments, wearing a black lace bra and a pencil skirt. One eye scans the room for an acceptable pair of shoes, as the other one closes in concentration, trying to wiggle a back onto one of her pearl earrings.

The smirk on his face catches her eye.

"What's so funny?" She calls over her shoulder, turning and heading for the bathroom.

He bites back a laugh; his grin growing as he glances down at his watch. "Daylight savings," he chuckles. "You've got an hour to kill."

She stops dead in her tracks and drops her hands to her sides. She spins around on her heel, and walks towards the bed.

"You ass," she says, trying to stifle her own laughter. She reaches out, swats him across the back of the head, and folds her arms across her chest.

"Maybe." He says cockily. "But I bet I can make it up to you."

Before she can protest, his hands wrap around her middle as he hoists her over his shoulder and strides toward the bathroom.

"Elliot, what the hell are you doing?" She squeals.

"Making it up to you," he says, brusquely, moving his palm from her ass up to her back, as he gently lowers her to sit on the toilet.

He quickly divests himself of his black boxer briefs and she exhales sharply as he opens the glass door to the shower and fiddles with the knob until the room billows with steam.

She gets to her feet and reaches around to unfasten her bra and shimmy out of her skirt.

He turns to face her, and notices she's still sporting a sexy little g-string. "Off." He commands, pointing a shaky finger at the tiny scrap of fabric covering her nether regions.

She shakes her head, a wicked grin plastered on her face. "You."

He closes his eyes and thanks his lucky stars. He doesn't know how he ever got to be so lucky. He moves into her and plants a deep, sensual kiss on her full lips. She closes her eyes and leans into the kiss. She's so distracted by the intensity of her arousal, fueled by his sudden brazenness; she doesn't even notice when he hooks a thumb under each of the strings on her hips, tugs, and lets her panties drop to the floor.

He pulls away for a brief moment and guides her to step out of her underwear, toward the shower.

When she opens her eyes, he takes her wrist in his hand, and balls up her panties, bringing them to his mouth.

"I love the way you taste when you want me," he growls, flashing her a gleaming smile, the lace between his teeth.

She lets out a desperate sigh and pulls him into the shower. The water is hot, but she doesn't care. She turns her back to her lover.

"You know I want it," she confirms, pushing her ass back into him. She lets out a seductive laugh. "You're a naughty boy, teasing me like this."

He moans, sucking her innermost flavors from the fabric.

His mouth opens and her panties drop to the shower floor. She bends over and he playfully swats her ass.

It stings, but she loves it. Her eyes narrow and she licks her lips as he brings his palm down against her other cheek, hard, this time, splaying his fingertips over the reddening globes. He lines himself up, sinks into her with a hiss, and slaps the tender flesh again as he pushes himself deeper into her.

She's wet and tight around him, and the smoldering look in her eyes as she peers over her shoulder at him is too much. He slides his hand around to slip a finger into her pink folds and toy with her clit.

She sighs deeply when he finds a rhythm that works for her, sliding his other hand up her torso and bringing her back up against him as he pushes up and into her. She turns her head and claims his lips in a wet open-mouthed kiss, letting out a surprised moan when his finger applies just the right amount of pressure to make her see stars. Her eyes widen as he pursues the kiss, while she's climaxing.

Her body is convulsing and she's so tight, it's damn near impossible for him to keep thrusting. But he'll make her come again, he thinks, even if he has to get on his knees and do it with his mouth.

He's still sliding his thick fingers over the slick bundle of nerves, when her toes curl. She feels the lace of her panties under her feet, and slaps her hand to the tile to steady herself against the wall, while Elliot pounds into her at a punishing pace. She inhales a cloud of steam and lets out a strangled cry, pulling his wrist up from her core. It's too much. Being with this man has always been too much, and somehow, not enough at the same time.

His fingertips dance along the sensitive skin above the strip of thick, damp curls and she swats his hand away. She'd trust the man with her life, but his hands have a mind of their own when they're on her body. Just a few inches south, and her knees will give out. He can't touch her there—not again—not yet. She pulls his fingers up to her mouth to distract him. She licks them gently letting out a quiet moan, without breaking eye contact.

It sends shockwaves straight to his dick, but he won't cum yet, he needs to feel her release again.

His eyes slip shut and his free hand slides up, over her wet flesh, until he reaches one of her nipples. He runs his palm over it, and pinches it between his fingers.

There's a simmering burn, deep in the pit of her stomach. She can feel it growing.

God, this man knows how to push her buttons.

He pulls his fingers from her mouth and she bites her lip as he gently tugs on her other nipple. Her orgasm surges through her like a rocket, and she's screaming.

"Fuck—fu—OH GOD, yes, Elliot! Right there, baby…ooooh."

She purses her lips and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to bite back the animalistic groan that threatens to escape when he moves his lips to her neck and drags his teeth along her damp skin.

She comes down from her peak and he's still moving in and out of her. She tips her head back to rest against his shoulder, and smiles weakly. She doesn't know how he's still standing, after what he's just done to her body—nevermind the fact that he was still thoroughly engaged in the dance of their hot lovemaking. Her knees are week but he's got her.

Olivia's body is wrecked and her limbs feel like jell-o, but he still feels so good inside her, stretching and filling her. She knows his release can't be far off, but for now, she's happy to get lost in the erotic slap of his flesh against hers, the water beating down on them as he thrust.


	5. Where There's Smoke

She pads quietly into the bedroom, sets her teacup on the nightstand, and begins to peel off her work clothes. He's already sprawled out across the bed asleep in his shorts. She smiles to herself. It's been a long day, but nothing makes it more worthwhile than coming home to his light snore. Sure, she loves the wild nights of hot steamy sex, but she also loves to fall asleep in his arms. It's something that's taken some getting used to. Affection was never something she sought in her life. She's not a hugger. Even in her relationships—if you could call them that—she'd never been much on cuddling. She'd just as soon kick a man out of her apartment, than kiss him goodbye after she finished with him.

It's one of the reasons she's come to appreciate her relationship with Elliot so much. She's got the sex drive of a teenager, and he knows just how to satisfy her, yet keep her coming back for more. But for some strange reason, she doesn't mind when he just wants to hold her. Perhaps it's because he knows how to respect her need for space, or maybe it's just because she's so incredibly in love with this man, that this part of the package just comes naturally. She's never really experienced the intimacy of just touching and holding-never the love with lust, or smoke with fire. These moments are so new: so tender and quieting. Whatever it is, though, it's worked for them. Partly because it's remained unspoken until now.

She divests herself of the final scraps of lace that cover her most intimate parts, slides the flowy satin slip down her body, and perches herself on the edge of the bed. She grabs a tube of lotion from the drawer in her bedside table, flips the top open and squeezes a small amount into her palm before working it into her skin. Her fingertips linger in lazy small circles around her ankles for a few moments, as she gets lost in thought. She can't remember ever being this happy.

She replaces the cap, sets the tube down and leans forward to turn off the light.

"I love you."

His words are so quiet, the wild thrumming of her heart betrays her.

She's silent for a moment. Processing.

"Hey, baby. I thought you were asleep," she says after a long reverie.

"Mmm, no." He manages, without opening his eyes. "But you can pretend I am, if it'll make it easier for you to say it back, if you want to.

She sighs contentedly, and her lips turn up in a smile.

"I love you too." The ease with which the words leave her mouth startles her, but she loves the way they sound on her lips.

"I love you too, Elliot." She says again, a little more confidently.

His eyes open, and a smile begins to spread across his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He thinks for a moment. Freely expressing his feelings for her has unleashed something in him. Finally unshackled, his want for her is simple. She loves him back.

"C'mere." His voice is quiet, but she'd know the tone anywhere.

She laughs. It's the deep, unbridled laugh of a woman who's found her place in the arms of a man.

She slides over him, shifting a leg to either side of his body, sitting low on his hips. She leans forward and kisses his neck and he moans appreciatively.

"So what, Stabler," she teases, "I love you too, so now you think you're gonna get some?"

"Well, am I wrong?" The bedroom is the one place his cockiness always pays off.

He reaches up under her nightgown and tugs at the band of her panties and she lifts her hips to assist him.

"No," she whispers, "You're not."

She presses a trail of wet kisses down his abdomen, looking up at him, through hooded eyes. As she reaches the band of his shorts, her tongue darts out to trace it.

She's buying time.

Since the incident at Sealview, she doesn't often initiate this kind of contact. She does it well, or so she's been told—at least before. But part of her still shuts down when she thinks about it. Elliot knows. Not everything, but enough not to ask her to get on her knees for him. This is different, though. It's what she tells herself each time she entertains the idea of doing this for him. She's right. But it's never been enough. At least not until now.

"You okay, baby?" He smoothes the hair from her face. "You know, you don't have to."

He's painfully hard for her. But even now, he'll let her call the shots. He never wants to be the reason she wears that distant look. He wants to tell her no. To hook his hands under her arms and pull her up his body, and just hold her—kiss her until the uncertainty disappears.

It fades. The fight in her dissipates with his gentle words, and she begins to tug at his boxers.

She starts off slow, lapping his balls as she watches his expression shift from concern to that of the utmost desire.

She enjoys wielding this power over him, so much so that she tilts her hips up, and the teddy hikes up around her midsection. She watches his eyes travel the gentle arch of her back, rolling into the plump globes of her bare ass.

"My God, you're beautiful," he sighs.

She works her mouth around his member, sucking and swirling her tongue around the hardened length, as her head bobs up and down.

She can't quite accommodate his length. It's not for lack of trying, but her jaw strains with the effort she puts into it.

She places a gentle kiss on the tip, and replaces her mouth with her palm as she crawls back up his body. The tiny black nightgown hangs away from her frame so he can see her rosy nipples as she sways toward him, a hungry look in her eyes. He playfully slaps her bare ass and the sting makes her moan. She kisses him deeply and moves her lips down to the crook of his neck.

"Tell me your fantasy," she moans, between kisses.

He pauses for a lingering moment, trying to regain his composure. He places a palm softly on the back of her head to guide her gaze up to meet his.

She's got a wicked grin plastered on her face, and she doesn't break eye contact when she carefully slides one strap down her shoulder, and then the other. The cool air caresses her puckered nipples as the silky material slinks down and pools at her midsection. The slow striptease is enough to break him, but he wants—needs to get these next words out before he loses his composure.

"I want a baby."


	6. Tomorrow

A/N: Sorry for the delay! The rest of the chapters should be posted in fairly short order. Let me know what you think!

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><p>"You—you <em>what?<em>"

She looks up at him, her face pale in the dim light of his bedroom.

"I know. I know. I don't mean to scare you, it's just—you, me… this feels right. And I know you want a family too, so I'm not looking for an answer right now. Just promise me that you'll think about it."

He slides his hand to her lower back, and gently flips them, until she looks up at him, looking vaguely startled, but somewhat relieved.

He doesn't need an answer right now, but truthfully, it's something she's thought about since the day they crossed the line between partners and lovers. She doesn't need time to think. She's never been more sure of anything in her entire life.

He smiles at her, and kisses between her breasts, and down her belly, stopping for a moment, to slide the silky chemise out of his way.

His warm breath hovers over her navel when she sits up, crossing her arms and gathering the fabric, tugging the garment over her head. She tosses it off into a forgotten corner of his room, and brings a hand down under his chin, bringing his focus up to her face.

"Okay."

She sits before him, utterly naked in so many ways. She thinks about the love they've shared. The way his fingertips brush against her skin, the power he possesses in every ridge and plane of his toned physique, and the gentle strokes of his lovemaking. She thinks of the way he reaches for her hand, when she times her steps to fall in line with his; of waking in his arms, the way he's gone to bat for those who've needed him over the years. She thinks of the way he hugs his children.

"Let's make a baby."

She smiles at him shyly. It's a demure little grin; she saves only for intimate moments with him.

He's overcome by the urge to sink into her. Even without a greater purpose for their lovemaking, the primal need to slide into her warmth is next to impossible to restrain.

Her head lolls to the side as he presses his lips to her neck. The foil on the blister pack of her birth control glints faintly in the moonlight.

She sighs contentedly as his fingers find their way to her center and begin to stroke her.

"Mmmmm… baby."

She's deliriously aroused, and with every caress of his thick digits through her silky folds, her thoughts get a little more hazy.

"El…"

She bites back a moan, as he hooks two fingers inside her.

"Baby," she says a little louder, this time.

"You like that?"

"Elliot…"

His fingers slow their ministrations and his eyes find hers.

She gently tilts her head to the side, and he catches a glimpse of that pesky little pack of pills.

He chuckles softly and she offers him a soft smile.

"Tomorrow?" It's more of a statement than a question, yet her suggestion offers him no satisfaction for the time being.

He's never been cock-blocked by the _presence _of birth control before. Come to think of it, she's never turned him down before either.

She's got a hint of mischief in her eyes, but she purses her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile.

His eyes beg her to reconsider.

"Not tonight, baby. We've got a better shot if you hang onto those boys for another day."

He withdraws, looking perfectly disgruntled.

After a moment's reverie, he flashes her a boyish grin. "Just for practice?"

She laughs a little and shakes her head.

"Can I make _you _come?" He asks hopefully.

"Are you up for it?"

"Really?" his eyes light up at the possibility.

"No."

His expression falls.

"I'm sorry baby, but if I let you, you're gonna want it too, and then you're going to get cranky when I tell you no. Let's just go to bed. We'll get to work tomorrow."

She playfully swats his ass, and reaches out from underneath him to turn the light off.

He sighs softly, and rolls over to his side of the bed.

Tomorrow.


	7. April Shower

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Please accept this extra-long chapter as my apology. As always, a big thank you to Lauren for her input. xox

Trigger warning: abortion. (There's nothing graphic in here, but please be advised. If you don't want to read it, don't read it.)

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><p>It's 2 AM and she's wide awake, staring at the wall.<p>

He's a light sleeper, but he's snoring so loudly, it's a wonder he hasn't woken himself yet.

It's hot. A little too hot for April, though she's still naked in his arms. She waits patiently for the respite of a cool breeze, floating through the open window.

She's not used to the suburbs. Queens is too quiet for her taste. She prefers the constant white noise that lulls her to sleep in her Upper West Side apartment.

Still it's nice being here on nights like this; she can enjoy the relief of a cracked window, no matter how thick and humid the air may be. It'd take some getting used to, but she could see herself living here if she had to. If they went through with it after all.

It's not as if she doesn't want everything he has to offer her, she does. She worries, though. She worries that the love they share won't be strong enough to withstand the revelation of the parts of her she's yet to share. She worries that one day, he will turn to her and take back his promises; that he'll wake up one morning and decide that she's not worth it after all.

She slips out of the bed quietly, and heads for the bathroom. Perhaps a shower will help her clear her head.

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><p>She turns the bottle of shampoo upside-down and squeezes it hard. By her memory, there shouldn't have been much left.<p>

"Fuck…"

She swears as the overspill oozes out of her hand and makes its way toward the drain.

She squishes her toes together and laughs softly, as the shampoo works into a lavender-scented lather around her feet.

He bought a new bottle.

She knows he's madly in love with her, it's evident in every thought; every word that comes out of his mouth, and everything he does. Though he's only just told her tonight, for as long as he's been in her life, she's known. And in her heart, she's felt it too. It's part of what made them such a great team, and it's part of what nearly tore them apart.

When Kathy left him the first time, she kept her distance. After 20 years of marriage, he had earned the right to sulk a little. At least that's what she told herself, when she was too afraid to own her feelings for him.

_"You've only got one chance. You gotta take it."_

_Gitano jammed the barrel of the gun into the back of his head and he resigned himself to his fate as the gravity of the situation took hold._

He was right. But not about that.

She walked into Cragen's office that night and requested a new partner.

One chance. One chance to walk away from him. She took it, but it didn't stick. It wasn't meant to. Their bond was stronger than that.

She knows he's never bothered to read the label on her shampoo bottle, but he lingers when he presses his lips to her forehead, when they wake up in the morning. She's seen the way he holds her pillow when he falls asleep before she turns in for the night. He knows her scent.

She has to tell him. For all the ways he fills the voids in her, she owes him that much.

She can't ever remember having been anybody's reason to smile. From the time she was very young, her mother had made it abundantly clear that she was nothing but a burden; a constant reminder of the worst thing anyone ever did to her.

_"You know, I never wanted kids."_ It was something she'd heard over and over again-the soundtrack to her childhood, starting from age 8.

_His name was Danny. He was 25 when she was a freshman at Sienna._

_It was a balmy Friday night when they met at a bar she frequented with her housemates. It was a bit of a dive, but it was the only establishment that didn't check ID's._

_She placed a ten on the counter only to have it slid back in her direction._

_"I'll take a Sam Adams, plus whatever the lady's having."_

_"The lady can pay for herself," she said coolly._

_"I insist."_

_She wasn't typically attracted to such overt displays of male bravado, but it had been a rough week, and there was something alluring about the cocky smile he wore, and the mishievous sparkle in his deep green eyes. Perhaps it was just the escape she needed._

_"Vodka tonic."_

_Before long, she found herself between him and his mattress, panting and moaning a slew of four letter words between whispered names of dieties._

_She hadn't bothered to find out his name, and wouldn't have regretted it one bit if it weren't for the fact that three weeks later, she'd thrown up every morning for four days straight, and her period was a week late._

_It was a no-brainer. She was barely 18, and didn't have the means to support herself, let alone a child. She sat quietly, with her hands in her lap as the nurse counseled her on alternative options. Her hand shook as she signed the papers, but of this she was sure: she wasn't about to raise a child who would only grow up to resent her. That legacy would end with her._

_Later that semester, she'd run into Danny again. It wasn't that she didn't think to bring it up. She just didn't feel the need to involve him in her personal affairs. Or so she told herself after she wound up underneath him again._

_"Olivia." He smiled, "That's a beautiful name."_

_"Thanks, I had nothing to do with it." She chuckled as she shimmied back into her jeans._

_"Say, Olivia, when are you gonna let me take you out on a real date?"_

_She paused for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head, as if trying to conjure up a reasonable excuse._

_"Listen Dav-Danny! Sorry. Uh. You seem like a nice guy, and the sex was fantastic, I just-that's really all I'm in the market for at this point."_

_He sat up and tugged the sheet around his midsection, surprised._

_"Listen, I gotta go." She blurted, while fastening the hooks on her bra. "Finals week."_

She never saw Danny again, but from time to time, she thinks about how different life could have been, had she kept the baby.

Twenty-five years later, she questions both nothing, and everything about her decision. If she'd had a child then, her life would look very different today. She may very well have never made it to the academy; never met Elliot. Then again, this secret could mean their undoing.

He's always made his opinions on such matters very clear. Yet despite the misgivings he might have after he knows; he deserves to.

She pushes the nozzle in, and she reaches out from the shower curtain, groping around for a towel.

Suddenly, the curtain flies open.

"Elliot! Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me."

He ignores the startled look on her face and slowly steps into the tub.

"I missed you," he says, leaning in and letting his lips find her neck.

She moans a little, feeling a sudden surge of moisture between her legs that has nothing to do with the fact that she's yet to grab hold of a towel.

Conscious thought escapes her as his lips move south of her neck, peppering her bare chest with kisses.

His left hand spins them and pins her back the wall, while the right slips between her legs.

"El, I'm cold." She mumbles incoherently, trying to remember just why she's fighting this.

"That can be fixed," he says, barely lifting his mouth from her damp skin.

He reaches up, and releases the shower head from its holster, twisting the ring to ensure a steady pulse of water, once he finds the faucet despite the distraction of her damp body.

He's so fucking turned on, he can't stand it.

Her eyes flutter open when she hears the click of the massage option on the shower head settling into place.

"Fuck," she blurts.

"Yeah, that's the idea," he says, looking up and flashing her a wry smile.

"No—it's just. …I just."

He looks up to see the anguish fitting across her face and immediately steps back, pulling his lips from her torso.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I, um. …I have an early day tomorrow," she says, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. She hates that she's lying to him, but this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation.

"Liv…"

She wills herself to give him a gentle smile and kiss him sweetly before reaching for the curtain again.

"But, uh—have fun with your shower head," she grumbles, feeling a bit flustered._  
><em>

She's a damn saint for walking away from him.


	8. The Conversation

**A/N: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Leave a comment and let me know what you think of the story so far!**

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><p>"Liv, what's wrong."<p>

It's more of a statement than anything. It's been two days since he ambushed her in the shower, and she's turned down every one of his advances since.

She's sitting up in bed, her brow furrowed as she closely examines the trashy magazine in her left hand. She's chewing on the earpiece of his thick-rimmed reading glasses—the ones she makes fun of him for, but secretly borrows from time-to-time.

He knows she wears them, but he's never caught her until now.

"Liv…"

"Huh?" She's startled out of her reverie.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh! I'm—um—I'm just trying to find the five differences. Y'see how they put the same photo side by—"

He interrupts. "Yeah—I mean—no. …No, that's not what I meant."

She drops the magazine in her lap and looks down at him.

He's perched himself up on his pillow, facing her.

She gives him a soft smile.

It's usually all the invitation he needs, but he can see there's something weighing on her.

"Liv, if there's something you need to talk to me about, now's as good a time as any."

She stares at him apologetically for a few moments.

"Y'know, you've been acting strange since I brought up this whole baby thing and you won't let me touch you. …Hon, if you're not ready for this, I don't want to put any pressure on you, but you gotta talk to me."

The words barely register in her mind.

In an instant, she's on top of him, pressing kisses to the hollow of his throat. "Mmm…no, baby. It's not that." She smiles, kissing her way down his body, avoiding eye contact, and trying her best to sound unfazed by the accusation.

She's never been one to face her problems head on. She knows she'll have to address this at some point, but for now, she's buying time.

He can tell she's not being entirely forthcoming about her hesitation, but the fact that she's on top of him, sitting low on his hips for the first time in days is such a distraction.

She's halfway down his torso when he moans softly and reaches down to divest her of her panties. She stops abruptly.

She takes her birth control with a swig of tea just before she kisses him goodnight, every evening. Continuing to take it after their decision to start trying would have resulted in the conversation she's trying her damndest to avoid. It's been three days since her last pill.

She looks up at him sheepishly as her fingertips find the waistband of his boxers.

"…I'm on my period," she shrugs. "So I guess it's just you tonight."

"Olivia, I…" He grinds his teeth and tries to get his bearings, but she's made quick work of freeing him from his shorts, humming softly as she works her mouth down around him. God, this woman could try the patience of a saint. The way her tongue swirls over him just at the tip is excruciatingly pleasurable.

"Liv!"

She looks up at him, splaying a hand flat on his abdomen as she uses the other to ease a strap down her shoulder, never taking her mouth from him.

"Christ… Fuck," he grits. He closes his eyes and tries to focus his energy on something other than the way her sudden laughter sends shockwaves straight to his balls. There's no way in hell he's going to be able to stop her once she's naked.

All too well, she knows his weaknesses.

She eases her mouth up and sucks a little harder at the tip, flicking it gently with her tongue. She wraps her hand around him and eases up his body, not breaking eye contact. "This side of two days ago, we were right… about… here," she whispers, as she slowly begins to stroke him.

"I asked you to tell me a fantasy. But if my memory serves me correctly, we never quite got that far, did we… detective?"

Her voice now dripping with sex, she's committed to the distraction.

His face twists into a scowl. "Olivia, stop it!" He just barely manages.

She sits up abruptly, looking every bit as surprised as he is.

"…I can't believe I just did that," he mumbles.

"Me either," she whispers. "Fucker."

She climbs off of him, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, readjusting her nightgown as she slides under the covers. She reaches for the lamp on her bedside table, when his hand covers hers and stops her dead in her tracks.

"No."

She's unbearably still for far too long, before he speaks.

"I call bullshit."

Before the words leave his mouth, she's buried her head in her hands, sobbing quietly.

"Hey, hey… what's this about," he asks softly as he reaches for her. Despite all the years they've known each other, the number of times she's cried in front of him can be counted on one hand.

He wraps her in his arms and presses his lips to the top of her head, nestling his nose in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of shampoo, as he kisses her gently.

"Tell me," He says gently.

After a long moment, she finally manages to find the words for what she's been tiptoeing around, "I think I made a mistake."

"Baby, what are you talking about? What kind of mistake?"

She chokes back a sob and takes a deep breath, and after a brief pause, she begins.

"It was a long time ago…


	9. Regret

A/N: I could come to you with a litany of excuses as to why it's taken me so damn long to update. Computer trouble, pressing work issues, complete and utter lack of self-discipline. They're all true, but I'm sure you don't care about any of it. So all I can really offer you is a humble apology and a promise to try to be better at updating. ...OH! And this chapter! Please enjoy, and remember to leave a review! (Seriously. They remind me to get my shit together, when it comes to updating.) xo

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><p>He's silent for a while. He hasn't reached for her. But he hasn't run for the door, either. That must count for something, she thinks.<p>

"Elliot…" she says softly.

It doesn't register.

All the effort she spent finding the words without falling apart seems like a foolish waste of energy now. Untold minutes pass, and he gives her no indication that he's even heard anything she's just told him.

Her voice barely above a whisper, she tries again.

"Elliot?"

The quiet that follows is downright deafening.

"Elliot, I need you to say something." Her voice cracks on the last word, and he turns his head, fixing his eyes on her. He doesn't say a word; but shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

In this moment, she wants nothing more than to take it all back. Rescind the words that have him looking at her with such an indiscernible expression.

She can't. She can't un-say the words and she can't keep it in any longer.

"Elliot, I—"

Her train of thought is interrupted by a single word. The first he's spoken in ages.

"When?"

She shakes her head dismissively.

"It was years ago."

"When." He's not asking this time.

She knows what he needs from her.

"We weren't partners, El. It was before I met you."

He visibly relaxes, but looks away.

"It wasn't Cassidy, then."

For a moment, she forgets herself, and laughs unhindered at the accusation.

He's entirely unamused by her reaction, and it stops her.

"Wait—you actually thought I was dumb enough… with _Cassidy_? …No, Elliot. I didn't get pregnant with Brian." She takes a deep breath and starts on the back story. "I was just a kid—18. I never meant to—"

He puts a hand up to stop her.

"Do you regret it?"

She looks down at her hands. "I regret everyone who came before you. I regret them because they didn't matter to me, and you do. So much so that I've never told anyone about this until now." Her voice is soft, but strong; full of confidence. "I also regret not telling you, because I was afraid, and because I wasn't ready—I've never known how to let anyone in.

It's still not the answer he needs, and she's painfully aware of it. After a moment of recollection she looks down at her hands and continues. "Elliot, I don't regret my decision, because if I hadn't made that choice, I probably never would have met you." She looks him, her eyes red and shimmering with unshed tears, "And even if this were to end right now—if you were to leave me," She chokes back a sob. "You've already given me so much more than anyone else ever could. And that's something I'd never regret."

He closes his eyes to let her words sink in. It's not exactly what he wanted to hear, but for the first time, she's communicating freely. Honestly. He can't invalidate that.

"So that's why you've been avoiding me." He says, after a long pause.

She lowers her head in acknowledgement. She's never been big on showing emotion. Maybe it's the sudden fluctuation in hormones, these past few days. Maybe it's him. But whatever the reason, the tears flow freely now.

He makes a move toward her. It's the first either of them has touched since she came clean about the elephant in the room. He wraps her in his arms, and feels her body relax. This isn't the Olivia he knows. This isn't the fierce, relentless sex detective he's come to know over the years. For the first time, she's not the stoic heroine who shows up to work crime scenes with him at all hours of the night. She's woman. A woman with hurts and needs.

The tears slow, but he doesn't let go of her.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Olivia. I love you. I've always loved you. This changes nothing."

She pulls away for a moment to look into his eyes.

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, Elliot. I swear. It was never the right time. …And then this—this baby thing."

"I know." He says quietly. "I know."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't not tell you. It's just—you know how I am."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks.

_You know how I am._

He does. He may very well be the only one who does, and the sudden epiphany of her unwavering faith in him is sobering.

"You know I meant it, when I said this doesn't change anything."

She looks up at him, confused.

"I still want to have a baby with you." He pauses for a moment, "But only if you want to."

"Really?" She smiles for the first time, in what feels like forever.

"Really. I want the whole package with you, Olivia. I want to start a family with you and build a house out in the suburbs, where we can get a dog, and plant tomatoes in the summer."

She laughs, and her face lights up. It's a nervous laughter, but he'll take what he can get.

"That sounds an awful lot like a marriage, Stabler," she says, trying to sound calm, but failing miserably.

"Well, yeah. That's what I want, if it's what you want. But I'm not looking to push my luck, here."

"I see," she says. Her voice slowly regains confidence, as he tips his hand. "But telling me you want to have a baby isn't pushing your luck?" She grins at him, cockily.

"No," he says coolly. He moves impossibly closer to her. The heady mixture of his cologne and mouthwash is getting to her, and he's all-too-aware of it. "I know you've always wanted kids, Olivia. I figured we could just start with what you're sure of, and see where that takes us."

The smirk is gone from her face. She's suddenly pinned to the mattress by the weight of his body. She holds all the cards now, but she'd gladly surrender them if it meant he'd stop teasing her.

"So does this mean you're not just gonna knock me up and leave me?"

"Not a chance." He doesn't miss a beat as his lips find her neck.

She can feel her pulse quickening between her legs. She moans.

"So what do you say?" He asks rather confidently, as his mouth traces her collarbone.

"Mmm… yeah."

He stops abruptly.

"Really?"

She doesn't bother to open her eyes as she responds.

"Don't sound so shocked, Stabler."

Her whole body hums with desire as she comes alive under his fingertips.

"You want to have a baby with me." It sounds as though he's trying to convince himself, more than anything.

She laughs.

"My mother warned me about boys like you, Stabler. …Now hurry up and take my panties off."


	10. Trust

**A/N:I wasn't expecting to update so quickly, but I'm really not in a position to question my muse! A big thank you to those who have reviewed. And to anyone who's following this story, and hasn't left a comment, I'd love to hear your feedback, so feel free to drop me a line! Hope you like this next chapter. There's more coming!**

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><p>She's on all fours, grinning from ear to ear as he kisses down her spine; her dark blue boy shorts riding up when she pushes back against his teasing fingers.<p>

He knows exactly how bad she wants it. He feels it. He sees it in the softly defined muscles of her abdomen that clench when he touches her just right.

She bites her lip and drops her head into the pillow to groan his name. It'd give him entirely too much satisfaction to hear her beg for it, so she gathers the pillowcase between her teeth and stifles the need.

After what feels like hours of torture, she feels his deft fingers tug at the waistband of her panties. He slowly peels the material from her ample backside, and she exhales a sigh of relief.

"Mmm… you like it when I touch you like that, baby?"

His voice is cocky, and it's all she can do to keep from telling him to fuck off, so she can finish the job herself.

He lowers his head and inhales the musky scent of her desire. Licking his lips as he sets his eye on the prize, she wiggles her hips toward him. A silent plea.

He slides his hand to the underside of her belly to bring her body closer, and plants a chaste kiss at the junction of her slightly parted thighs.

She doesn't bother to stifle the moan when he gently guides her to her back, coaxes her thighs apart, and eases his tongue inside her. The stubble on his chin feels heavenly as his face burrows deeper, languidly licking, sucking, and kissing her most intimate parts.

For this man, she is insatiable.

He stops suddenly, and she groans in frustration. "I thought we were making a baby," she whines, missing the way his tongue massages her clit.

He chuckles a bit, and wipes some of the moisture from his mouth. "We were getting there."

She rolls her eyes, closing them dramatically. By the time she opens them, his lips press gently to hers, and she laughs quietly against his mouth. Sex with Elliot is always a bit of a tossup. The way he keeps her on her toes is maddeningly sexy. "You taste like me," she mumbles against his lips, smiling to mirror him.

"Tastes good, right?" He switches gears and moves his lips down to the crook of her neck, and she sighs, a bit sated as his hands find her breasts.

"Tastes good on you."

In a flash, he's up again, and her face twists into a scowl.

"Elliot, where are you going? I'm tired!"

"Shh, I have an idea."

She hates it when he walks out, leaving her like this—even if the momentary glimpse of his bare ass is an awfully good consolation prize.

"El, can't you just fuck me properly and put me to bed? Just this once!" She tries hard to swallow her yawn, but it's been a long day. Hell—it's been a long three days, and this man's antics are downright exhausting.

"I'll be back in a second. Don't move."

He reappears a few minutes later, holding a bottle of champagne and a lone coffee mug. "You know, you really oughtta think about doing your di—," but the vision before him steals his words.

She's curled up on her side of the bed, clutching his pillow, and snoring softly. She wears nothing but a pale blue top sheet. Her hair frames her delicate features; illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp to the left of the bed.

He'll marry this woman, or he'll die trying.

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><p>She rolls toward him and yawns as the early morning light leaks into the room.<p>

"Fuck!" She whispers loudly, and it wakes him.

"I tried, but you fell asleep," he grumbles drowsily.

"No, Elliot! I never set my alarm! What time is it?"

"You know, you really ought to just set one and leave it."

She's not amused.

"Relax, I wouldn't let you oversleep."

It's barely 6AM, and she's woken up enough for both of them. Her heartbeat begins to slow.

"Hey, can I have my pillow?" He yawns.

She glances down at her lap, picks up the pillow, and tosses it at him.

"Heeey!" He protests.

"Sorry," she shrugs. She pulls the sheet up around her midsection, and worries the corner of her lip. "Hey, did I fall asleep on you last night?"

"Yush." He mumbles into the pillow that's now securely under his head. After a beat, he turns over to look at her.

She gives him an apologetic frown.

"S'okay. It's not like you fell asleep _while_ we were doing it."

A slight smirk grows outward from the corners of her lips, illuminating her big brown eyes. "It's been a long few days," she says quietly, letting the sheet slip down to her waist.

"Christ," he whispers as he drinks in the sight of her.

"It's Olivia," she says smartly, as she climbs over onto his side of the bed to straddle him.

He's rock hard. This woman should not wield such power over him, this early in the morning. He's in his late 40's for God's sake.

She slides lower and grinds herself against him, leaning forward to give him an eyeful of her luscious breasts.

He picks his head up and captures one of them in his mouth, hooking his thumbs under her armpits to give himself the leverage to suck.

She feels the tension starting to unwind from deep within her belly. The way he moves his tongue could coax the world from God's very hands. He'll make her come like this, if she lets him.

She pulls back and slides down his body, glancing up at him through her thick, dark lashes "I'm sorry, baby," she mumbles as she takes him in her mouth.

She wraps her lips around him and takes him deep, relaxing her throat, to let her tongue explore his length.

His body is Jell-o. He doesn't even dare to find the back of her head with his hand, for fear of interrupting the rhythm that makes him see stars. His breathing quickens, and he feels her smile around his cock.

He's so close, and so wrapped up in how she's managed to bring him to the edge of release, despite what that animal Harris did to her at Sealview, while she was down on her knees. He is in awe of this woman, of her resilience, her sexiness.

It's an arrogant thought, but as he takes her head in head in his hands, and she looks up at him, he's sure her body is built to fit his.

"Let me in, Olivia."

She has. In so many ways, she has. But for the first time, he's asked knowing that she's right there with him.

She releases him with a sweet kiss on the tip, as she always does, and she crawls up into his lap, sinking down onto him, and locking eyes.

His slick skin sticks to hers, when she lifts her hips. It's an offering. She gets lost in his slow kiss, and doesn't bother to slide back down. He'll take from her when he needs to. For now, she's happy to stay still in the moment with him. She's happy to be filled at his leisure.

Wonder lights his face, as he realizes she's giving him what no man before has had.

In the early light of dawn, she begins to trust again.


	11. Gypsy Heart

**A/N: To all the followers who've sent reviews, a big thank you! Each one brought a smile to my face, and look how fast I updated this time around! (It really does help!) As always, I love hearing your feedback. So keep 'em coming!**

**In case anyone wants to know, the song that's playing in the kitchen is Bette Midler's "Do You Want To Dance."**

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><p>It's been ten months since the first time they made love, two months since they started trying for a baby, and four days since she moved in with him. He loves the way she insists on brushing her teeth before she kisses him each morning. She puts the coffee on, climbs back into bed as it brews, and brushes her teeth once more before leaving the house. Every moment he's inside her is every bit as magical and wondrous as the first. Her soft kiss could part the seas. If it's possible, he's fallen even more in love with her than he's ever been. And after all these years, he's barely begun to scratch the surface with her.<p>

_You know everything about me. Even the parts I'd rather forget._

At the time Olivia said it, it was a fairly accurate assessment.

It was the beginning of the end of his marriage. Kathy had left before, but they'd managed to make it work once their youngest came along. But between the stresses of raising yet another unplanned child, and his long hours on the job, it seemed as if the Stabler marriage was finally dissolving.

_Elliot, I don't know why you're fighting me on this. You can't expect me to keep waiting around for you to finally acknowledge it yourself. I won't be your second choice, El. I'm your wife; not a safety net._

The moment Olivia walked into the precinct, he fell for her. He spent the next ten years learning her, and trying to deny the fact that the more he knew, the more he loved. By the time his divorce was finalized, he felt ready to accept that he knew everything there was to know about his partner, and he was done fighting it.

But the past few months with him have lent themselves to a previously undiscovered Olivia—an Olivia that lay dormant under the surface, until now.

He sneaks into the house with a large bunch of sunflowers in one arm, and a bottle of moscato in the other. It's the hottest July on record in New York, and the house smells of lemons and cleaning solvent when he walks in. She's leaning over the stove, scrubbing the backsplash with a toothbrush when he makes his entrance.

She doesn't immediately notice him, and he takes advantage of the moment to absorb the details of the peaceful in-between. She hasn't quite the knack for working the central air yet. It's too warm in the house, but she compensates for it in a faded pair of too-short denim cutoffs, a black bra, and one of his undershirts. The ensemble leaves little to the imagination, though he knows she's not chosen it for sex appeal. Still, the way it accents her curves, and the thin sheen of sweat on her skin doesn't hurt matters much.

His eyes travel up the expanse of her legs, and his slacks are suddenly a little too tight at the thought of those legs wrapped around his body.

She steps back for a moment, and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Without turning around, she admonishes him.

"You planning on making yourself useful, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at my ass all night."

She's only half-kidding.

"I wasn't staring at your ass," he utters—trying hard not to smile.

She spins around and side-eyes him. "You're a bad liar, Stabler."

He sets the wine and flowers on the kitchen table and takes a few steps towards her.

He chuckles softly. "Only when it comes to you," he says, wrapping her in his arms, and letting his lips find her neck. "But I wasn't lying," he mumbles between kisses.

"Oh?"

"I was staring at your legs."

She gives him a hearty laugh, and it's the most wonderful sound he's heard all day.

"Whatever you say, El." She sighs, and the onslaught of his lips distracts her. The day has been too long—the first day off she's had in a month. She doesn't quite know what to do with herself when she's not on the job, or by his side. She's done little else in the time they've been together.

"Seriously, babe. The air. It's so goddamn hot."

"Mmm… yes it is," he laughs.

She reaches down and swats his ass, and it's enough to get his attention.

"Ooh, someone's asking for it."

She doesn't bother to stifle her laughter. "Yeah. I am. …The air, Elliot!"

"Oh! Right."

He walks over to adjust the thermostat, and disappears out of the room for a brief moment while she fishes two wine glasses out of the cabinet.

He calls over his shoulder. "So what's the occasion? Feeling particularly domestic today?"

"I dunno. This kitchen hasn't had a thorough cleaning in god knows how long. I just started unpacking a couple boxes, and I thought I'd just—." Her voice trails off for a moment., as he pads back into the room. "…Elliot, I can tell you're staring at me again. Knock it off."

She's nesting. Olivia Benson is in his home—their home. And she's nesting. This is about as novel as it gets, he thinks. It couldn't be any further from the picture of Olivia he's been painting in his head for ten years. And oddly enough, it puts him at ease.

He walks over to the stove, and admires it briefly before reaching for a vase in the cabinet above.

He sets it down on the countertop, walks up behind her, and slides his arms around her waist and starts to sway, as familiar notes begin to swell around them.

He's not much of a dancer, or so he's led her to believe. But as the music crescendos, he moves them around the kitchen with ease. He doesn't miss a beat, even when he breezes past the kitchen table to snatch a sunflower, sticking it between his teeth.

She laughs, and it's a self-assured, unabashed pure joy that no one else in the world has heard. With him she is free; her gypsy heart tamed.

By the time the music ends, his lips are on her body again. She's still shaking with uncontrollable laughter. He slides his hands up under her shirt, dragging it over her head. He effortlessly picks her up and plunks her down on the cool granite of the island Kathy insisted he install about two years ago. …If only she knew.

His hands go to the front of her shorts to undo the top button, and she suddenly remembers what he's about to discover. She succumbs to another fit of laughter, only just managing to unhook her bra with the hand that's not supporting her weight.

"Jesus, Liv!" A surprised smile splits his face in two, as he unzips her fly. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

She's positively scarlet. "I'm so used to not having a washer." She says, trying to catch her breath. "It's my day off, and I didn't have any clean ones—thought you might like this better, anyway."

"And here I thought I was gonna have to get you drunk."

She laughs again, and her breasts jiggle ever-so-slightly.

He's fully clothed, though his tie is a little looser than it was when he walked in the door. And for the first time, she doesn't recoil from the way he looks at her hungrily. She kicks her feet a little, and her shorts fall to the floor as she wraps her legs around his midsection, and he leans into her for a kiss.

It's slow and grounding, the way his lips move on hers, as she grinds her hips against him, seeking a bit of momentary relief from the growing arousal. He moves back a little to unbutton his pants, and adjust himself. When he comes back in, his lips begin a slow descent until he's on his knees for her, with his mouth moving in a slow rhythm between her thighs.

She comes quietly, but for the gentle quaking of her body, and the way her breath catches in her throat towards the end.


	12. Enough

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait! Life has been utter chaos, lately. Please accept this super-smutty chapter as a token of appreciation for not giving up on me! **

**Once again, a big thank you to Lauren ( IRANT_ on twitter). She's been an excellent sounding board throughout this whole creative process! But don't panic! ...This story's not over yet! There's still more to come.**

**And again, if you're following me the story, please leave me a comment and let me know what you think. ...Even if it's just a few words, your feedback means so much!**

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><p>Her palms are slick with sweat, sliding against the mahogany headboard as he fucks into her from behind. She grabs hold of the nightstand for leverage, but the punishing pace at which he takes her doesn't allow her fingertips ample time to gain traction before he slams back in.<p>

If she wasn't gasping for air, she'd be screaming in ecstasy, but she manages a breathless whisper. "Don't stop."

This isn't lovemaking; this is a rough ride, and she's enjoying every second of it.

Elliot grits his teeth, pressing his fingertips into the forgiving flesh of her ass, as she pushes back against him. He puts the weight of his body behind every thrust, but she's determined to meet him each time. He buries himself a little further inside her with every guttural groan, and she tightens around him, as if she can somehow keep him there. It's no use. She's so wet already, he's not slowing down, and he's spent what feels like an eternity, taking it easy on her. She's done her begging. Hard and fast is good. So, so good.

He runs a hand through her wavy locks, and grabs a fistful of hair, pulling her up to him, to run a hand down her torso. His fingers stop before they meet her sex, but his thighs are still slapping against her, as he pushes his length up into her. She's been after him to get rough with her.

"You like that?" He grunts, "You're so fucking tight, baby," he says, turning to kiss her cheek.

She tips her head back onto his shoulder, letting her lips find his neck, as she feels the rigid planes of his stomach against her back. The sweat beads between them as he urges, deeper and deeper, holding her body close.

He forgets himself in the moment, and his hand slides a little further south.

"Unh!" She cries out when his fingertips find that sweet spot. He only dallies for a moment or so, before he slides his hand into hers. It's a tender moment, despite the shared frenzy of their bodies.

She brings her free hand up, behind her. It settles on the back of his neck, kneading its sinewy strength, as his brow furrows and beads with sweat. His hips slow a bit, and it feels so agonizingly good as he languidly sinks into her and stays while her body adjusts to cradle him.

He moans, and she feels the reverberations deep within her.

Her breathing evens, and the sweat trickles down between her breasts, as they move in tandem. Each taking what the other has to offer.

The demands his body makes of her are impossibly agonizing as their pace steadies. But it's vital to the dance. He laces his fingers between hers, softly kisses her cheek, and slowly drives into her, splaying a hand over her belly. It's the sweet respite she needs in the moments between the fervor.

She feels the slow burn ignite in the pit of her stomach, as her body begins to tremble.

"Don't come," he whispers, pressing his lips behind her ear.

"If you come, I'll come, and I'm not done with you yet."

Her head lolls to the side, and he kisses her sweetly, as she closes her eyes and wills her body to stave off the release his body never fails to coax from her.

"Keep your eyes closed." He commands softly.

Her brow furrows as he breaks the kiss. She'd hardly noticed his hands sliding down to her hips.

The emptiness overcomes her instantly, as he pulls out and pins her to the bed.

"Do not. Open. Your eyes." He reiterates sternly.

He holds her arms above her head, immobilizing her with a single strong hand wrapped around both of her wrists.

She squirms a bit, feeling suddenly exposed. He's between her legs, keeping them pried open with his knees.

"Now," he says thoughtfully, "Ground rules."

"You may not open your eyes unless I tell you to. Understood?"

She swallows hard, keeping her eyes shut tightly. A smile threatens to split her face in two, but she thinks the better of it and purses her lips. She's never seen this side of Elliot before. It's a little intimidating. Hot, but intimidating.

"Do you want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you before I do it?"

She shakes her head, "No." She says confidently.

The gravity of her unwavering faith is not lost on him, but for the sake of circumstances, he won't acknowledge it.

"Then we'll need a safe word." He asserts.

His fingers find their way to her core, and begin to stroke her.

"Fuck me," she moans.

He's forced to bite back his laughter. "That won't do."

She groans in frustration.

"…But if you insist."

He lowers his face to hers, and kisses her hard and fast before leaning down to capture one of her breasts in his mouth.

"Uhh," she breathes.

He obliges the wordless command, his fingers rubbing slow circles over her clit.

"Harder," she grits.

He stops suddenly, and her eyes flutter open.

His gaze meets hers, and before he can scold her for looking, she wriggles a hand free, and pushes its heel into his chest, hooking one of her legs around his torso and shoving him onto his back.

"If you want to fuck me, you're gonna have to work for it, Detective."

She leans down, peppering his neck with kisses, and he reaches up and swats her ass. The sting makes her moan, and she knows it's killing him that she's not riding him like this. She knows because it's killing her too. Moving a little higher, she shifts and lets one of her breasts drop to his mouth.

"Naughty girl," he mumbles around her.

He sucks eagerly, reveling in every sigh and moan that escapes her parted lips, each time she throws her head back. He tries in vain to move his head back, but her hands keep him pinned to the mattress, while his lips and tongue tease.

He doesn't mind. The payoff will make this worth the wait.

She plants her hands back onto the mattress, and he brings his fingers up to replace his mouth, as he moves and gently draws her other nipple between his teeth. He laps and kisses as she slides her hips down and slowly sinks onto him with a sigh of relief.

She arches up, and his hands find a home in the delicate curve of her waist as she moves at a sluggish, but deliberate pace, enjoying the sweet fullness. The magnetism is gentle, but undeniable as he lingers sweetly inside her.

She opens her mouth against his, and the breath escapes her lungs when she realizes his hands have halted her movements. He's buried deep inside of her, unmoving but for the gentle rocking her body makes as the first waves of pleasure begin to wash over her.

He feels her tremors begin to subside, and laces his fingers between hers, sliding his hand to her lower back and guiding her down as he eases his weight on top of her without losing an inch of contact.

He kisses her, his eyes full of passion as they lock with hers. He lifts his hips, sliding out, and then gently back in.

Skin to skin, their bodies grow slick, and slip together sweetly until release blooms once more. Its subtlety manifests only in the gentle arch of her back, and slowed breathing. But it's all the evidence he needs before he too succumbs to warm release deep within her.

They lay lazy for a while after, each tracing the outline of the other's body, never stopping to steal kisses, but for the gentle brush of fingertips against mirrored lips. And for this moment, it is enough.


	13. Pursuit of Happiness

**A/N: Once again, a big thank you to all who have sent reviews! They are so very appreciated. You'll notice this is a short update: I had initially planned on this being the last chapter, but it really would have been much too long, so I'm splitting it up. Thanks for your patience! As always, I'd love love love to hear your thoughts!**

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><p>He gives each of her nipples a wet suck, as she drags her nails down his back.<p>

He moves his hands down and peels her panties off, sinking his middle finger into her.

She props herself up on her elbows. "What if there's a reason it's not working?"

He adds another digit and her head drops back down to the pillow. Over the past few months, they've begun taking the same approach to sex, when she's ovulating. No talking. Just sex.

It's worked well for him, as seeing walk through the door in her in body-hugging work clothes reminds him of all the years he's spent thinking about yanking off her pants and bending her over his desk, in the middle of the squad room. Each time a pink circle appears on the calendar next to the kitchen phone, he thinks about making up for lost time.

"Elliot you're not listenii-!" Her voice goes up at the end, as his thumb applies just the right amount of pressure to quiet her.

It works.

The thought is banished to the back of her mind for a little while.

It still troubles him to see her worry like this.

After a few more gentle strokes, he withdraws his fingers from inside her, and lays a hand flat on her belly.

He watches a shiver run through her, and scoots down to the end of the bed to gather the top sheet and pull it over their bodies.

It's been five months since they started trying.

"These things can take time," he says, resting his chin just below her navel.

It's not as though she's been ignoring her biological clock. Hell, she even looked into adoption a few years back. But some part of her has always felt as though the pieces would fall into place when she finally found the right man—that her happily ever after could start unbidden, at the exact moment she decided.

She looks down at him, as he laces his fingers between hers, and presses a gentle kiss to her upturned wrist. A single tear slips from the corner of her eye as the realization overcomes her.

"Hey, what's that for?" He says, gently.

She smiles then, and closes her eyes to hold back the tears.

"I never knew…" she said softly. "I never realized. All this time I've been chasing these far-fetched notions of happiness. I thought that having all these things would finally fix things for me, but they don't, Elliot. They don't. …You do."

He lets out a relieved sigh, and holds her gaze for a while.

"I've been waiting for my life to start, Elliot. I've been waiting for things to begin, and I want this with you, I do. But if it doesn't happen for us, El? …I'm okay. I have my life-I have my-you."

She lay back and smiled as he slid his weight between her legs and eased into her. He kissed her gently as she inhaled, relaxing her body to let him in deeper.

They made love that night, reveling in the gentle sway of each-others' bodies as they came together. They held each other all night, forgetting everything but the incredible feel of skin, slipping against skin. And in the morning, they kissed before parting ways for the day, silently agreeing to let the chips fall where they may.


	14. Home

**A/N: Last chapter, y'all! Thank you so much to all who've kept up with this story, and left such wonderful reviews. You guys are all awesome. Also: A special than you to Lauren ( IRANT_) who has encouraged me to keep going, given me some wonderful input, and helped me push through my writer's block. Couldn't have done it without you, babes!**

**Lastly, please please please drop a line and let me know what you think of the ending!**

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><p>They move softly together, their voices barely above a whisper. She lifts her hips, and his hands slide to the small of her back, tracing small circles there as she pants. She's close. It doesn't take much these days.<p>

Her head tips back and her mouth opens slightly, as she shifts her weight forward, flattening her palms against the rigid planes of his abdomen. The solitaire on her left hand glistens in the dim light of the bedroom.

_Six months ago._

It was exactly one week before Christmas, when Elliot had gone out to check the mail. His breath hung thick in the air like smoke, as he filed through the envelopes. The pile consisted of a few cards and some bills, but there at the bottom of the stack was something that stopped him dead in his tracks: a bridal magazine.

The pressure to conceive had been off since late September. They hadn't been trying to get pregnant, but they hadn't exactly taken any precautions against it. Though when they agreed to leave it in the hands of fate, they never revisited the prospect of marriage.

Elliot was ready, of course. He'd made it abundantly clear. However, Olivia's propensity to do things in her own time served as a reminder not to press. But this? This was entirely unexpected.

_I figured we could just start with what you're sure of, and see where that takes us._

The words he'd used to reassure her back when they'd first decided to start a family were a perfect indication of just how far they'd come. They were happy. Committed. Stable. Content to have a child if by happenstance, they were blessed with one. But was Olivia finally ready to commit?

Confronting her directly would end up being nothing more than a long walk for a short drink of water. Sure, the magazine had been a sign of her coming around. But there was also a chance that in her heart, this step was still a ways off, and the last thing she needed was more pressure. Especially from Elliot.

She had been more stressed than usual with work. Cragen had recently brought on two new detectives, and aside from Olivia's typically burdensome workload, it was something of a struggle to acclimate the rookies. The extra strain had made her a little more sensitive to tension at home. Not to mention the exhaustion of the holiday season had always made her a bit cranky.

He walked into the house, set the mail down on the kitchen table, and grabbed a package of post-its out of the drawer next to the phone. Biting a cap off a marker left on the table, he drew a large question mark on one of the notes, peeled it from the stack, and stuck it to the magazine, leaving it atop the pile, and going about his day.

That evening, when he walked into the kitchen, he noticed a different post-it in the place where he'd left the magazine, which was now missing. This one had a smiley face on it.

_January 2__nd__._

Olivia tugged nervously at the sleeves of her cream-colored sweater dress.

"Would you relax? You're making _me_ nervous." Elliot whispered, smiling gently.

"Sorry," she grinned sheepishly, looking down at the diamond that seemed to sparkle in every light.

"Liv, if you don't want to do this today, we don't have to. If you're nervous—if you…"

"No." She said, rather matter-of-factly. "I've done all the thinking I need to. I don't want to go another day without being married to you."

She leaned in, and kissed him sweetly as the judge called out the number they'd been assigned…

They walked hand-in-hand out of the courthouse, with snow falling all around them. All was quiet, save for the occasional soft chuckle that Olivia couldn't seem to stifle.

After about her fourth outburst, Elliot, running out of patience, untangled his fingers from hers, and slid his arm around her waist.

"What's so funny, Stabler?" He asked, leaning in close and lowering his ear to her lips, as if waiting to be let in on a secret.

She takes a deep breath then, letting out an unintentional, wholehearted, side-splitting laugh.

It's the most wonderful sound, he thinks.

"El, we did it!"

He smiles then, and moves to kiss her squarely on the mouth, before she staves off his advances, pressing her palms to his chest.

She takes another deep breath, and swallows a chuckle. "No, Elliot. We're having a baby."

_It's been six months since the day they married. _

A year and a half since that early autumn night. But the way they fit together is unlike any feeling either of them has ever known.

She leans forward kissing him gently, as he rocks into her. He slows to memorize her body again. Stroking her softly in the way that she likes, he reaches up with one hand, and traces his fingertips over the curve of her belly. Her breathing quickens, and he looks up into her eyes, to find himself at home with her, in the colors of an Indian summer evening.


End file.
